


The Making of Aravis

by Glenstorm63



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-03-01 06:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13288821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glenstorm63/pseuds/Glenstorm63
Summary: We encounter Aravis during a time of great change in Archenland's relationships with its neighbours.We follow her as she visits Narnia during a time of turmoil.This story is convergent with "Polly and Digory Return"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written to be included in "Polly and Digory Return", but it just didn't fit in the existing storyline. Some later chapters will be in common.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lune discusses some news at table.

The Vacation of Anvard  


9 months after the disappearance  


Aravis had been beside herself for months. As if it wasn't bad enough that her great friends, the sibling sovereigns of Narnia had gone missing, they had also left no succession plan!  


She was still baffled that Archenland had not stepped in to secure the rule immediately; at least as a Regency. The presence of Calormen's expansive empire loomed large for her. She shuddered at the thought of the pincers of her former beloved homeland tightening around her from both North and South. She had now fallen in love with both Narnia and Archenland and their freedoms and informality. She found she was terrified of losing what she had gained.  


Rabadash's brief sojourn as a Wild Calormene Ass, may well be making him the most peacable crown prince in Calormene history, but it was not going to stop some of his numerous hot-blooded brothers such as Khorvash or Sarosh, cutting a bloody swathe through the fabled land to the north behind his back. Or her own impatient Calavaran relatives for that matter, she realised upon reflection. Out of love and regret about his past actions, her father may have finally accepted her defection, but many of his countrymen definitely had not, according to her father's last letter. And in her view, purely politically, Archenland could ill afford to have Narnia left vulnerable to the empire to the South, once curiosity about the nation's true plight became well known. She could not imagine how that could have been kept a secret for more than a few weeks or months at most.  


So, Aravis had listened with grave doubts to all of Lune's blandishments about steering well clear; and Corin's for that matter. She desperately hoped that Lune's level of security mean that he had secret intelligence which she did not. As for Cor, he was still in awe and confusion and gave nothing useful to the discussion.  


Part of the puzzle, as she had learned early on, was that the Archen Royal line; currently represented by King Lune and his sons Cor and Corin and their various cousins in Anvard and Armouthe, had remained in lock step with Narnia for time out of mind with a Royal intermarriage between the two nations every generation or two. That is, until Jadis had stepped in and obliterated all the humans in Narnia. So their claim was indisputable and in Aravis's view, urgent.  


Aravis made the point again at table one cool spring evening, when only the family and herself were there, about nine months after the disappearance. She had noticed a scroll with what looked like a Narnian Seal in Lune's hand when he came in. She saw that Corin had also noticed and he seemed out of sorts, almost as if he dreaded its contents. Cor, as usual had pretended to not notice anything and was presenting as slightly withdrawn and cautious. It had taken two years before he finally stopped throwing food down his neck as if he didn't know where his next meal was coming from. A hard habit to break when all your past had been fraught with poverty and thin pickings at the table she had come to realise. Tonight was not one of his relapses, she was pleased to note.  


But about the Archen Royal Line's claim to Narnia, Lune was making none. He wished to remain aloof and said so.  


"I have told you before Aravis. Aslan's will is at work here my dear," he said around half a mouthful of venison. Sticking his two-pronged fork into his birchen platter, he swallowed and taking a long drink of watered wine, cleared his throat and put his drinking horn down gently. "Aslan took the Four away with a purpose; no doubt for them as much as for Narnia. I think it is up to Narnia to find its own way forward."  


"Archenland's royal family may exist as a permanent understudy to Narnia as it were. After all we are descended from Helen and Frank's second son. But there are other families from Terebinthia and Galma and elsewhere too, who also have a claim, as the record keepers of Narnia know full well. It would not be fitting to step in unless we are invited. The Council of Narnia will no doubt call a conclave of leaders of neighbouring nations and we shall be at the table along with everyone else. But when that shall be has now become the moot point. It is true, the delay is now of great concern. I have been hearing reports for some time, of turmoil amongst the noble guests from neighbouring nations. The Duke of Galma's sons have been making a particular nuisance of themselves, I hear tell, squabbling amongst themselves and lording it over the native Narnians. I did take it upon myself to write to Duke Magnis, sending one of the Royal Gryphons over to Galma, hoping to embarrass him into retrieving his misbegotten spawn. I still don't know if it bore fruit. The Gryphon said that the Duke simply read the note, got red under the collar and had him escorted to the top tower so he could fly straight back here. Not even a drink of water! And today I just received this missive from Peridan and the Legacy. Apart from being the Narnian War General, Peridan sits on this Council of Legates. Whilst he was "borrowed" by High King Peter and swore first loyalty to Narnia, he also acts as Archenland's eyes and ears there when he deems the needs of both countries coincide."  


He waved a parchment bearing the seal of the Council of Legates.  


"This is a warning! It tells that the Cair itself has been closed up and that the squabbling nobles had to be rounded up and placed in detention for a few weeks to calm down. They have been ferried up-river to Beruna and now reside in what stands for a prison in Narnia. If we march in now, we may well set off a dispute which will then dog the stability of whomever becomes the future ruler there. I dare not risk such an entanglement. And… " he added, "anyone on this side of the border who might be in line for the throne of Narnia may need to come to their own conclusions about a timely intervention. I am not that person. Aslan is not a tame Lion but he likes to be asked and he also tends to find his own way to propel people towards their fate, not just when they are good and ready."  


He studiously avoided any eye contact with Corin as he spoke, who sat immediately to his left but Corin was not to be fooled.  


"If you think I'm going to pray to Aslan to become King of Narnia father, and await an invitation from the nation's Council or Legacy or whatever they call themselves now, you are much mistaken," he said hotly, clutching at the arms of his dining chair with reddening fists. He breathed to calm himself and said with difficulty, "Far better for one of our noble cousins to take on the task. Their claim is just as strong as mine. Indeed, even some of the timber getters, weavers and coopers and fur traders in Anvard Town or even fishermen in Armouthe could have the right. Nearly all of us are descended from Helen and Frank as you well know father. Even Aravis might be for all we know."  


Corin still had no intentions of becoming King of anywhere as he had made abundantly clear when Cor (or Shasta) had turned up again and he was not about to change his tune now. He glowered, and just chewed his cabbage salad stubbornly as if daring his father to push further.  


Lune just chewed another mouthful himself, looked to his left and eyed his second son thoughtfully.  


"Nay, my son. I could never mistake your intent. That is abundantly clear. However, reasons of state and Aslan's wishes may take precedent over your own. Only time will tell."  


Protocol may have dictated that it was the King who would rise first unless permission was sought and granted otherwise; but a fig to protocol! It was only Corin's respect for his father which stopped him leaving the table then and there and walking out in a huff.  
As if dismissing Corin, Lune turned to Cor and Aravis, who were sitting directly opposite.  


"And Aravis my dear, I'm sure that Corin speaks from the heat of his heart and does not truly wish you away from here to Narnia, but he does speak truly. Unlikely though it be, you could indeed have ancestry from Helen and Frank. Difficult to prove though, as it is likely to be quite far back. But a daughter of Eve you certainly are. There can be no dispute about that!"  


"So Calavaran tales tell at least O Foster Father. The ejection from the Garden of Bliss and the exposure of the parents of humanity to the maladies, tempests, sandstorms and famines and their struggle for survival is well known in our land. " said Aravis. "But our legends also tell of an entire palace with acres of gardens full of servants, artisans and nobles being transported by arcane means to Calormen upon the backs of Tash, Azaroth and Zardeenah from another world entirely. It would seem that this may be the same world from which Helen and Frank must have come."  


"Yes, indeed, Peter and Lucy and the rest as well, from their tales," said Lune. "We are all sprung from one and the same world. It would seem that Aslan and the other powers have drawn daughters of Eve and sons of Adam from different parts of that world to this more than once. The people of Seven Isles such as Lord Daimyo and the people of the Far South such as Lord Shar are also testament to that. And it is to some purpose I am sure. But I digress."  


"As for closer to home, the Lords Cole and Colin may still have some interest in Narnia. I am yet to sound them fully on their most recent thoughts. But they also counsel caution. And I must give thought to Archenland first. Their growing importance in court, I hope means they are probably best maintained as Cor's staunch counsellors when I am gone, but Aslan may have other ideas. "  


He held up his hand at the protest from Cor.  


"Nay! A King must always look to the event of his untimely death for the security of his nation and his dynasty. Take note my son. As crown prince you must even now begin to take thought of this matter. A man of eight and ten will you be presently. It is near time we found you a wife!" He said this with a twinkle in his eye but again avoided looking full upon anyone in particular as he spoke. He went on.  


"Dar and Darrin have their duties in Armouthe cut out for them, Dar managing the timber and olive oil trade with Seven Isles, Galma, Terebinthia, and the rest. And Darrin operating as Lord Chancellor and Chief Magistrate. As I am not in Armouthe myself, I can spare none of them, yet."  


"But father", put in Cor nervously, "did you not teach me almost within the first month after I returned to Archenland, the following maxim? 'A good king values all his subjects, but a great king knows when to let go those he values most.' I am sure it was that or words very alike."  


He looked at his father most earnestly.  


Lune studied his elder son with a pleased smile and said, "Yes indeed my son. Well recalled and most apt! You are right, none must be completely indispensable, including the seat of power itself. The reason I shifted the royal seat to Anvard in the first place was because Armouthe had become such a hotbed of intrigue under Lord Bar and his embezzlements. Too much of a threat to my own family; and myself. Anvard is more defensible. I have been forced to be a placid mountain king far from the madding crowd to secure my own dynasty. Darrin has been doing a sterling job of stamping the criminal element out and we think the last has been put to rest. And now, thanks to your father's excellent intercessions Lady Aravis, we have now reopened embassy ties with Calormen, after seventeen long years after we sent the entire embassy packing with their hangers-on over the Lord Bar affair and your abduction Cor. Far too long."  


He paused, coughed and took another draught of watered wine.  


"I am still to choose a person to send to Tashbaan," he said thoughtfully in a low voice. His eyes went out of focus momentarily as if considering a row of faces.  


Then he caught their gazes. They were all watching him. His eyes glinted mischievously as he said, "I had considered sending a Talking Ass. There are goodly droves running in some of the valleys to the South-East of Mount Pyre. But like their dumb cousins, they have proven intractable in the arts of education, geography and deportment, let alone politics and diplomacy. I am sure none of you have never met any in the corridors or stables of Anvard?"  


They shook their heads, wry smiles on their faces, remembering the murderous, vainglorious Rabadash reduced to a braying ass, his only weapons his hard hooves and teeth.  


"But the soon-to-be Calormene ambassador to Archenland, Tarkaan Breshinda has been hand chosen by Rabadash himself and the Tisroc has endorsed the recommendation I am pleased to say. He is the second son of a lord from the arid lands to the North of Tashbaan on the great peninsula. Our near neighbour really. We have used the messenger bird flocks to spy him out; pigeons and sparrows in the main, plus a few well positioned cats. It seems he is an honest, scholarly and resourceful man who wishes to build a genuine relationship with Archenland. A most prudent choice by Rabadash. Perhaps his ready support of Rabadah's suggestion is a sign that the Tisroc may even be thankful for the Transformation of his eldest son. Certainly Breshinda is also bound to try to extend the reach of Calormene medicines, spices and fabrics into these northern lands and help access our own trade routes east…and we shall have our price."  


"This brings me to the real news I am sharing with you tonight. There has been a plan in development for some time, which was delayed when you two youngsters arrived here in Anvard three years ago. Peridan's message tonight confirms that the time has now come. Anvard shall once again become reserved for summer and autumn hunting meets, rustic training retreats and watching the borderlands. I shall leave Cole in charge as Steward here for the time being. With closer ties to Calormen again, and our near neighbour Narnia still in disarray, the court and throne must needs move back to Armouthe."  


That took them all by surprise. Lune watched them all carefully.  


"At last, some real fun!" Corin intoned, thumping the table with a delighted fist, making the platters jump. "When is this to start?"  
Aravis found she felt both pleased and anxious at the prospect of moving to a busier centre, but held her tongue to hear how Cor reacted to the news.  


"Oh father," moaned Cor. "I was only just getting used to the demands of Anvard. I'm not sure I am ready for Armouthe."  
"Of course you're not!" agreed Lune. "It is when you feel most ready that you will be proven otherwise. You showed yourself a survivor when brought up to near manhood by a bitter and hardhearted man. You proved a spirited escapee who avoided being turned into a wicked man's plaything, let us be blunt. As a young man, Anradin was always without ethics. He loved to play people like puppets, and he desired the pale flesh of the North, but hated our freedoms. I saw this many times when I spent time in the University of Tashbaan when I was young. Your choice to escape with Breehy-hinny-brinny-hoohy-hah and resist the temptation of imagined luxury was a wise one my son. You further demonstrated yourself a resourceful survivor on short rations; the steadfast companion of a young lady in distress; indeed you turned on Aslan himself and tried to chase him away from Aravis to save her from further hurt! And you were the saviour of Archenland at its time of greatest need by racing against time to warn me; and then climbing over the mountains in darkness to call Narnia to aid! At none of these points did you find yourself ready. For it is these deeds which prove your worthiness and your adaptability, not your feelings of readiness."  


He beamed at Cor, who looked back at him with nervous hopefulness. "Come, my son, it is high time you came to know your own capital. It is only a sixth the size of Tashbaan and it will be the seat of your government in time. And the Archen townspeople are eager to meet you. The bards have been singing your praises there for the last three years!"  


"Armouthe will eat you up, he means," Corin put in sarcastically.  


"Oh dear, that is exactly what I was afraid of," moaned Cor and began to fitfully chew his nails.  
Aravis hissed and poked at him to stop this habit and Cor hastily withdrew his fingers.  
Lune politely ignored this interchange and instead looked at Corin with amused eyes.  


"Mayhap thou hast forgotten o second son. Thou hast been spied by the wider Archen people upon only rare occasion, being kept in mountain seclusion. And with thou and Cor as alike as two peas, methinks the crowds will flock to cheer thee on and clasp thee to their ample bosoms with as great an alacrity as thine own brother!"  


That brought up Corin a bit and was unsure whether to feel threatened or pleasantly excited. He flushed.  


"But certain shall it be, that thy fists shall remain closely by thy side and a pretty smile shalt thou keep upon thy face, no matter what the insult. O yea, for thou shalt be feted near as great as Crown Prince Cor and thou shalt accept the applause with grace and stand by his side and show thy fealty to him."  


Corin flushed further and began to look mutinous.  


Aravis was delighted at this come uppance for Corin but schooled her features.  


…  


Lune continued his description of coming events which involved the long mountain path trek down to Armouthe and the re-establishment of court there.  


"As for when, it shall be very soon. And as you all know, Tran Dinh my older ward, is due to travel from Anvard to Armouthe in a week. We shall go with him. His father, Tran Cadeo, is Governor of the Lone Islands and if Tran Dinh does not become the next Governor, we expect him to be high in the administration there and our staunch ally in future with all the trade routes that cross that way. His father is arriving in Armouthe aboard a Crayer in a fortnight. We must be there to greet Tran Cadeo and to then see Tran Dinh off after we have had further trade talks and signed contracts. And I fancy they will be doing a short trip north to Narnia before returning to their hometown of Narrowhaven. Being under the protection of the Crown of Narnia, and in tribute too I might add, I suspect he will be seeking to drive a bargain of some kind with this new Legacy. I have been considering sending a formal visitor with them, if only to observe and report on events, but Peridan's message confirms the need for us to be there. And I am yet to choose who that will be as well. Peridan says that the Legacy wishes for an independent witness to the trials of the quarrelling nobles. But it cannot be myself. That would send the wrong message. The Tisroc would likely hear and think I was working to take over Narnia to build an empire of my own. Things are very delicate."  


Aravis pricked up their ears at the prospect and thought, "That is exactly what he would think", but she held her tongue and continued listening.  


Corin groaned at the thought and looked positively uninterested. Cor looked pensive. But Lune did not elaborate on the matter. Instead he returned to the need to restabilise Archenland.  


"With re-establishment of formal diplomacy with Calormen and with Narnia still in such disarray, Archenland must be seen to be solid and unified. Enough of this skulking king in the mountains business! So it is timely, this departure for Tran, for it is from Armouthe that Archenland's King must now be seen to be operating.  


"And did you know, Lord Shar has also completed his fostering and training time with us and is bound for a petty kingship of his own in future years. He shall also travel with Tran Cadeo and Tran Dinh to the Lone Islands and from there take a ship back to his own country. As a reminder of geography Cor, his kingdom is far to the South of Calavar, beyond the borders of Calormen itself, in the far Southern Mountains and Tarnlands of the Kaish. A debatable land but the home of a hill antelope with the softest wool imaginable, wool and silk weaving of greatest fineness and silverwork of utmost beauty. I deem it more exquisite even than that of Narnian dwarf-make. All tradable commodities beyond compare. And we stand to gain from this contact and familiarity into the future. It was the main reason Tran Cadeo recommended he be sent here in the first place… and for other reasons," he added.  


"You see I tried to keep both their presences here hidden from the Tisroc, innocent though it seemed, but Rabadash's criminal attempt to take this castle and gain a foothold in Archenland uncovered them unfortunately. Their presence in our sortie could not be hidden, especially once Shar's masterly scimitar work in removing arms and heads and Tran Dinh's outlandish skill with the fighting cane was duly noted, knocking off helmets and breaking arms left right and centre as he did. I fear for Shar's people. It is another reason to strengthen diplomacy with Calormen. I deem our recent understanding with your father Aravis, may also need to be used to help dampen Calormene intrusions into the Kaish territories. Archenland stands for independent small nations who wish to carve their own futures, and will not be cowed into submission to a larger power, wise though its rulers may be. It matters not whether forces of domination come from Narnia, tiny little Galma, Calormen or farther afield. And as we have spoken before, Rabadash may be restrained to Tashbaan and nearby districts, but his brothers have other ideas. This we know. They have not been turned into desert asses and neither are they likely to be. Aslan has always told me that the magic will not work the same way twice and I think they begin to know it."  


"Father! Are you saying that Aslan speaks to you often?" asked an awed Cor. Having encountered the mercurial beast himself many times in various guises upon his journey to the North, Cor had been rather disappointed he had not laid eyes upon Aslan since he had turned Rabadash into a desert ass three years before.  


"Well… that is asking my son, but to be fair, he has not shown himself to me more than a few times in my life, at least as he appeared to us upon yonder lawn when he took Rabadash to task."  


He sighed. "Yes, he was in Armouthe to bless my father and mother's joint coronation, for they had fought long and hard for my mother to be recognised as Queen and Aslan knew that the people needed to see his blessing. But not my own coronation. I saw him as a Lion only once as a child. He spoke to me and gave me courage when I was a lost urchin wandering the forests several valleys from here after going out with my nurse on a wild plum picking party of all things. Rather, it may be said that at certain times in my life, especially at times of great doubt and turmoil about my kingship, my abilities or my grieving for my long lost son, or my dear departed queen, he has come to me. This has normally been in dreams whether waking or sleeping and even sometimes in the form of a small talking beast in the wood or the field. But twice he has come to me in my very apartments when I have been hard of heart and short of temper. I shall not deny that my knees have shaken and my breath caught in my chest. But after these encounters I have always found wisdom and courage and the challenge to face the next task. And his guidance has never gone astray. So take courage," he finished softly.  


There was nothing more to be said. Lune's eyes had gone very misty and all his family found themselves swallowing lumps in their throats with memory. Even Corin had once had a private personal encounter with him. They sat in silence for a few minutes, remembering moments past.  
Lune coughed and seizing his drinking horn, drained it in one draught, wiping his beard on his sleeve and blinked a few times.  
"Hey ho! Oh, and by the by, after seeing the great cats and birds of prey in the Narnian army several years ago, and the Royal Gryphons here of course, Lord Shar told me that his nation also have talking Snow Leopards and Spotted Eagles there who will act as his eyes and ears around the court and countryside. They speak his tongue but not ours. I have never heard that the Tisroc has the same facility at his disposal. What say you to that Aravis?"  


Aravis took a few deep breaths, thought for a moment and gathering her words carefully, she said, "Never having had the questionable glory to spend any time in the inner sanctum of the Tisroc (she managed to avoid saying 'may he live for ever'), apart from that fateful night in the old palace with my friend Lasaraleen, I must admit to ignorance, o foster father. Indeed, I had never been aware that Talking Beasts existed outside Narnia apart from the captured horses such as Hwin and Bree until I learned of those still making their homes within Archenland", she added.  


"However, upon listening to the talk of the Tisroc, Ahoshta and Rabadash, it seemed to my ears that all there regarded the presence in Narnia, of beasts and half-beasts which talked with the voices of men, as doubtless proof of the bestial and diabolic nature of the fabled land. If any such beings were even residing secretly within Tashbaan, in the pay of the Tisroc, I have no doubt all those present would have spoken with a different tone on the matter in that place. And it would be difficult in the extreme for such a secret to be kept within Calormen at all. It is not for naught that the fear of torment and death is used by the empire's leaders to gain discretion, for Calormen is the very land of gossip."  


Aravis paused and laughed slightly . "I have no doubt my own friend Tarkheena Lasaraleen would have found a way to uncover such a secret and it would have been the talk of the eight provinces! But the closer to the throne one gets the greater the intensity and secrecy of the gossip, as you may imagine. For it has been said by the poets, "A slave of Calormen must learn the art of discretion by love for his master, a senior servant by duty to the estate, but a Tarkhaan must learn to keep his mouth shut lest he be ordered to fall upon his sword."  


Corin humphed with impatience at all this colourful formality, but he still sat and listened intently. It was a window on their Southern neighbour which Aravis rarely shared.  


Cor was revolted as it reminded him too much of the hard beatings he had encountered at the hands of Arsheesh who had claimed "fatherhood" in order to capture Shasta's obedience and loyalty, but never rewarded his slavery with love.  
Lune sat listening attentively, feeling grateful and looking a little smug to have such a well-educated and erudite young woman in his court. Aravis continued.  


"For myself, the old fables of Flying Horses carrying ancestors far afield appealed to me very much, being a hot-blooded and spirited young maiden. But tales of the North about other Talking Beasts as well as Goats and Horses with the heads and torsos of men had rarely taken my attention. Indeed, by the time my grand-parents were children, such seeming nursery tales had been all but obliterated by reports of an ancient lady of venomous aspect, killing all humans and sealing the borders of the land with ice and snow. And such reports indeed proved to be true, as we learned from the last of the Narnian Daughters of Eve and Sons of Adam, who, managing to escape, sought refuge in Calormen, and further South, as far from Narnia as they could flee."  


Aravis now finished and inclined her head.  


Lune said "Nicely said young lady. That tells us several things of import. I think you are correct. Our own messenger birds have never reported resident talking beasts or birds in Calormen at all, apart from a few Talking Horses they helped free; Hwin and Bree not being the first to escape you see. Indeed most beasts and birds sent as our eyes and ears prefer to spend as little time there as possible. Methinks young boys are taught to throw stones harder and with better aim in Calormen than here. Most interesting of course is that humans fled south and settled in other parts. Archenland, Terebinthia and Galma no doubt took the Lion's share, as it were, but you have reminded us that in Calormen, indeed even in the lands of the Kaish, there may be others who also have a claim on the throne of Narnia. I had not given this thought."  


"But on the local front, our second cousin Perdita, Peridan's sister, is as yet unwed, so it may be that she becomes Narnian Queen in the end, especially if they should choose a noble from another country to be King. Oh yes, Narnia would be unwise indeed to spurn its ancient ties with Archenland."  


He watched the faces of Cor, and Aravis shift. Corin was morose and just chewed his cabbage salad, scowling.  


Cor spluttered in his cups. "B-b-ut, ahem, Father, you surely cannot mean that Archenland should make war upon Narnia if there is no Archen noble placed upon the Narnian throne; whether by marriage or no?"  


"Oh Shasta!" put in Aravis exasperatedly. "Of course not! What your father means is that strengthening the close alliance with Archenland is in Narnia's best interests... and our own. We may be Narnia's closest historical ally from before the White Witch, but Archenland would more likely help defend Narnia in a fight to the death if the Royal Family of Narnia had some recent Archen blood." She looked over at Lune to confirm her words.  


"And vice-versa," Lune added.  


Cor looked hurt and rather humiliated. "Well, that is what I meant really, Aravis. More or less. Father's words seemed too unbelievable otherwise."  


Lune looked at Aravis expectantly. She was well schooled enough to know what was needed, or so he thought.  


She said, "Yes, of course Shasta. I am sorry. I know what is what you truly meant. But it came across as defensive, as if from a weak character which we all know you are not. When responding to a statement which you find a little confusing, I was taught that it is better to ask for simple clarification without invoking the worst interpretation."  


"What?" Cor was just confused and overwhelmed. "Oh, what am I doing here? I'm not cut out for all this!" he cried. "Sometimes I think I should just go back to being a fisherman. Why don't I abdicate? Then you can marry Corin and become Queen of Archenland and ..."  


"Over my dead body!" stormed Corin.  


It was at that moment that both of the young men threw protocol to the winds and departing in different directions, left Lune and Aravis staring at each other bemusedly across the remains of dinner.  


And it was only as Aravis sat there, taking a last sip of watered wine and pondering her own words about Archenland's alliances that she realised she had said "we".  


…


	2. The Road to Armouthe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aravis leaves Anvard bound for Armouthe and reflects upon her position with particular consideration of her father's role when he visited Anvard eight months before.

The Road to Armouthe

Several weeks later, King Lune and his two sons, along with Aravis, accompanied by numerous courtiers and soldiers bid a tearful farewell to the staff of the castle, promising to visit as often as they could. The folk of Anvard Town were gathered in their finery to bid their King farewell. A holiday had been declared and there was some pomp along the high road down from the Castle from which were billowing gay pennants from every turret. The green and white tabards of Anvard with blue cloaks and silver armour shone in the sun. The three Royal Gryphons were swooping about above the cavalcade, glittering like brass and copper in the sun grandly, red and gold leg jesses trailing. Some of the Centaurs from Fernwood on the other side of Mount Pyre had come for the occasion and stood bare-chested on either side at the town gate singing songs of blessings, farewells and good luck. There were even a few black fleeced fauns and red fleeced satyrs capering about the cavalcade, pipes a’piping and tambors a’beating.

Aravis and Cor had seen a thing or two in their travels and in the last few years, but had never been honoured in such a way. Aravis found she had more than a tear in her eye and was glad she had thought to bring a handkerchief. 

Aravis had grown very tall and lean, her womanly curves softening a striking and handsome figure. She sat astride a black horse, two ranks behind King Lune who was flanked by Cor and Corin. She could see Cor, looking a little stiff and staring straight ahead. She felt for him but he was better than he had been used. Corin as ever, rode easy, looking about himself and grinning, and waving to some of the young women blowing kisses. They also had both grown tall and Cor had at last filled out and put on almost as much muscle as his brother, even if not a match in a fight, both resplendent in scarlet and white, with Cole and Colin and Dar immediately in front of her in green and blue like the soldiers. She was flanked on one side by Lord Shar of the Kaish in sombre brown but with a fine white turban festooned with a cockade of pheasant plumes and his scimitar by his side; on the other by Tran Dinh of the Lone Islands who was dressed in a many folded baggy suit of dark blue and white with a small black cap over his long black plaits which hung down to his waist holding his long polished hardwood fighting stick gracefully in his left hand, his right holding the reins in a relaxed pose. Together they were the three foreign noble wards of Archenland. 

For the occasion, Aravis had made a point of dressing in the Grand Calormene manner, wearing her long blue-black curls tumbled down her back, a few bright silver beads scattered about, with her side tresses caught up in a neat topknot with silver ornaments. She eschewed the traditional kohl eyeliner which she knew made the Archen people uncomfortable. She wore an orange-brown long-sleeved shirt with puffed shoulders and matching billowing pantaloons, cinched at the ankle, with silver-studded toe-turned heeled riding shoes. This was just one of several traditional outfits that her father had been gracious enough to bring with him when he had finally visited only 8 months ago, just before the Narnian disappearance. 

Aravis had very mixed feelings as they left Anvard behind and she turned in her saddle more than once to gaze back at the small castle gleaming in the sunlight one last time. She noticed Cor doing the same thing and flashed him a rueful smile. It was the place they had both come to call home for three years now and though she knew she would not truly miss the deep ice and snow of the mountain winter here, it had been a life changing experience and one that she was grateful she would never forget. 

Knowing Cor as well as she did, she had no real fear that he would adapt to Armouthe in time, once he learned to accept that most of his anxieties were unfounded and to just take things one step at a time. 

But she could not give herself the same reassurance. Here she was travelling as a foreign ward in a retinue to the real seat of power in this country; not the rustic backwater at the top of the range with idyllic views across the tumbled southlands of the Winding Arrow and its tributaries from the Archen Mountains and across the erg of the Great Southern Desert. She was now heading to a bustling tidal river port with traders and ships and oyster beds and fish smells and seaweed and dolphins and storehouses and granaries and timberyards and a marketplace and a prison and a healing house and a hospital and a real court and a real throne in a much larger castle. 

And there would be far more foreigners about than just Tran Dinh, Lord Shar and Aravis Tarkheena. Once they were gone, she knew she would stand out like a garnet in a field of quartz if she remained living with Cor and his family and would quickly become the object of speculation and gossip that would no doubt find its way back to the Tisroc. Well, she would just have to brace herself for what came. And Armouthe would no doubt have more than a few people of Calormene origin, perhaps even someone from Calavar. If so, she rather looked forward to being able to converse in easy southern Calormene dialect again, something she had not experienced for more than two years until her father Kidrash had visited for a week only 8 months ago.  
…

When her father had come to Archenland, he had not crossed the desert but had travelled in a sailed trade ship with a single orange and red striped sail, all the way up the coast from Calavar, ostensibly selling oranges, dates and fabrics of silk and fine wool. He had been welcomed graciously by Lord Darrin and spent several days in Armouthe accommodated at the Calormene suite of the castle before being escorted with his small retinue up the road along the Winding Arrow. Being well briefed by Lord Darrin about the history, he had come to appreciate the reasons for the odd location of the King and his family and had expressed with qualified gratefulness, that she had not been thrust into the public eye in Armouthe, but kept in relative seclusion in Anvard. But all that was now about to change.

Back then, in late summer it had been, Aravis had anticipated the meeting with trepidation and had prevailed upon the steward to appoint several of the female servants to be in attendance upon her for her father's arrival, lest his fears of her being unchaperoned by the fairer sex were raised.

It had been a wise course, because it was something he remarked upon at once and it seemed to soften his tone. As it was, her father as his first action had put considerable effort into trying to negotiate with Lune a formal betrothal contract to be drawn up with either Cor or Corin so that his daughter's honour would not be brought into question. Aravis completely understood her father's position, but she had been most grateful to Lune for the manner in which these discussions were handled. 

Firstly Lune had forewarned her to use a hidden listening post in a small chamber behind a screened wall, so she could hear both sides of the exchange and it was this which had given her such a strong sense of security about what would come of the meeting. Lune had been very pleasant and very patient. He had listened to all Kidrash's concerns and agreed that losing his last remaining child to another country must be very difficult and so on and so forth. Then he iterated his opinion, that Aravis was in his highest esteem, that he would be only too happy for Aravis to marry either of his sons if that was their mutual will, and thereby she could become Princess or even Queen of Archenland by marriage if that was how fate fell. However, he declared with a sterner tone under the circumstances, as Aravis had found it necessary to use complex subterfuge to flee her own land and her own father's home, to escape a forced child-marriage to a man who was old enough to be her grandfather, he considered it most important that she now come to the point of marriage in her own time and upon her own terms. Clearly she was a highly intelligent and talented young woman who needed to be much more in control of her own life. In any case he said, the law of this land forbade any involuntary marriage contracts and for good reason and that whilst she was in this country, let alone his family’s fostering, she would always have the last say in any marriage arrangements. He added that his own sons may have to choose a spouse for reasons of state but that neither would they be forced into any marriage against their wills, to their undoubted unhappiness. Conversely, Lune said that a marriage alliance between Archenland and Calavar with Aravis father's sanction of course, would be a most welcome development, but that as far as he was concerned, if neither of his sons' nor Aravis's affections became directed that way, then all bets were off.

Kidrash responded by saying to his regret, he had had to accept his daughter's defection and the fact that she had effectively been adopted by the Archen royal family did ease his concerns. However, he demanded outright that Lune do all in his power to make sure his daughter was never married to a “baseborn son of a dog”. This rather raised Lune’s eyebrows as this was exactly what he had heard Ahoshta described as, the very one which Kidrash himself had negotiated a contract of marriage with for Aravis, but he said nothing. Kidrash sought Lune's assurances that Aravis would be steered and supported towards a marriage with none less than the rank of a regional lord. After some explanatory points, this Lune did assent to and they shook hands on the matter. 

The conversation had then turned to the further education of Aravis, whether some furtherance of her Calormene tuition was possible and what structured kind of learning she was being exposed to in the Archen royal family. Lune had been prepared for this and had called for Aravis’s, Cor’s and Corin’s chief tutors. The two came in together through the tall doors of the Anvard audience chamber. One was a slender, grave and bespectacled man of about fifty named Trumardin. He introduced himself to Kidrash with a low, low bow and described his early history as a student of the great legal historian and poet Sadri from the University of Tashbaan and later the Curator of the Royal Library of Archenland, tutoring the royal youngsters and the foreign wards in calligraphy, composition, heraldry, economics and Archen, Narnian and Calormene law. As if this was not enough to impress him, his companion, a tall centauress from Fernwood called Starbright took Kidrash’s breath away, for he had heard of the strange demons abroad in these northern countries and never quite believed in them, much less dreamed that one might be tutoring his own daughter in astronomy, mathematics, geometry, architecture, geomancy and medicine. She strode gently into the audience chamber fully eight feet tall, clad only in an embroidered tabard, knelt down gracefully horse-fashion in her appointed space, inclined her head regally and then raised it to gaze intently at Kidrash with dark fathomless eyes.

Between them they were able to report that the Lady Aravis Tarkheena had proven a most apt student and that she was excelling at heraldry, dance, oratory, calligraphy, composition, architecture and geometry. Further, that she showed great promise in the area of law but that this was to be expected as the transition from Calormen to Archenland legal codes was bound to have held her back somewhat. Starbright and Trumardin then reported that regretfully Aravis was struggling somewhat in the field of medicine and economics, but they both expressed certainty that if she continued to put as much effort into her studies in future years, perhaps until she was at least 25, that she could be expected to take up any manner of senior positions in the administrations of Archenland, Narnia or the various Isles of the Eastern Sea; or Calavar for that matter, should she choose to return. 

Kidrash had been agog, but retained enough presence of mind to ask to see some of his daughter’s work as proof of their assertions. This being duly produced, it was a rather subdued and abashed Kidrash Tarkhaan who greeted his daughter in his rooms before dinner that night.

“O my daughter and o the delight of my eyes. I may be your proud father who came here half believing that you had wronged me and wronged your nation. But I find to my lasting chagrin that my wilful and gifted daughter has comported herself with all the due diligence and poise of which any father twice my position in rank would be proud.” 

Here he looked full upon Aravis’s face with tears in his eyes and said, “My lasting regret is that I was swayed too strongly by my wish for you to marry a powerful lord, regardless of your own wishes. I was suffering the grief of the loss of your dear brother which I believe now was brought about by our enemies from within Calormen. I was in a new marriage and I must confess I wished for a new start. I was desperate to raise you as high as I could, but alas, I under-estimated you for your youth and overlooked your capacity for learning and the many talents which Azaroth and Zardeenah and Tash the Inexorable, the Irresistible have undoubtedly showered upon you. Forgive me my daughter, for know now that I only wish the best for you. And you have found a best here which is somewhat beyond what your poor father’s imagination could have compassed.”

Aravis had not held back her tears, for hearing her father’s words; she now knew that she was truly free to make her own choices.

But he added, “And if my heart reads the situation here truly, this King Lune plays you fairly and with honour but that he has not propelled you into this further education for no purpose. In my estimation he means you to marry into his family, and whilst these white barbarians are strange to my eyes and ears, and their food tastes bland to my tongue, it flatters me that of all the women of Calormen he could have favoured, he has chosen you. Zardeenah moves in mysterious ways and she appears to have delayed your marriage and shifted you to this place for a great purpose. All I ask is that you treat the demons of these strange lands with great wariness and that you consider the exalted position you could reach here with all seriousness before you ever show the delight of your eyes to any other man than the Crown Prince of this Kingdom.”

To that, Aravis had not found a suitable reply. But she now knew she was secure that she had her father’s faith and pride in her and his blessing for her possible future, but she was guarded about his highest hopes and never spoke of this to another soul.

Kidrash had stayed a further two weeks in which they had many further conversations and he was treated to hunts and jousts and playful sports on the lawns of Anvard and the dark secluded pools of the Winding Arrow. To Cor’s lasting embarrassment, Kidrash was treated by Lune to a bard telling of the Royal Prince’s rush at the Great Lion to save Aravis and it was this story which to Aravis’s mind, only cemented her father’s opinion about her fate in Archenland even more firmly. 

So it was a fond if reserved leave-taking when he had departed down the road that led along the hills and valleys above the Winding Arrow back to Armouthe and the ship he had there waiting. 

And Kidrash Tarkhaan had left Anvard empty handed in terms of a marriage contract but he did take a document which outlined the terms on which Aravis would be schooled, mentored, socialised, chaperoned and publicly introduced and supported towards marriage if that was her will. The document was composed by Master Trumardin after discussion with Lune, Darrin and Kidrash and written by Aravis herself as she was most familiar with the traditional wording and letter styling that would most please the Calavaran sensibility… and she knew her father would recognise her hand.  
…  


So now, more than seven months later, Aravis was on the way to Armouthe, in formal dress amongst a cavalcade of nobles of her adopted country and others beside. The soldiers rode ahead and behind in some numbers, but the Royal Gryphons were aloft, sharp eyes able to spy out any threats that may have been lurking.  


It took two days of steady riding along the winding road on the Northern edge of the river, with a one-night camp on a wide lawn. Often they rode along the very river bank with stands of willow and alder, walnut and laburnum, hawthorn and elder and floating lilies, but sometimes climbing up and down hills to avoid rushing rapids and cliffs shear to the water. It was not called the Winding Arrow for nothing.  


So it was that the company found themselves brushing their hairs, smoothing their clothes, picking their teeth clean and refashioning the formal arrangement they had adopted when departing Anvard, before they picked their way down the steep hills overlooking Armouthe.  


Rounding a final bend, there, laid out for Cor’s and Aravis’s awed and nervous gazes, was the now tidal river flooded with the yellow light of late afternoon and a breeze which brought all the smells and sounds of a small coastal city to their senses and the bells rang out in welcome.  
…


	3. Owls in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The call for aid from Narnia comes in the night.

Owls in the Night

…

Lune

News came to Armouthe in the night. A relay of ravens, gulls and then owls had flown from Beruna via Glasswater to the Archen capital, carrying a personal message and a call for help. The pair of owls that had flown the last leg to support each other were at King Lune’s window. Tap tap tap! Tap tap tap! 

Lune jumped a little and roused himself, rolling his ponderous body across the bed and rang his bell. Two guards with equally bleary eyes stepped in.

“There is a messenger at the window, said Lune. “I want you to shine a light out there and make sure it is not some attempt at assassination by some rogue misery of crows before you let whatever it is in. I’ll step into my dressing room as a precaution. If it appears genuine, I shall grant a brief audience and get the matter over with. They obviously cannot wait. Ho Hum, no rest for the weary.” 

He pulled his robes about his ample frame and began to lumber off into the next room to make himself more presentable, but he paused in the doorway to hear the conversation.   
One of the guards went to the window and said “Who is it? Where are you from?” 

“Who who, who who?” sad a large owl at the window. “Who it is, is Archen owls from the border lands with South Eastern Narnia. We bear a message sent by Narnian Ravens And Gulls which has been penned by none other than Lord Digory of the Apple, he who hails from the Dawn of Time!” The owl sounded excited and self important, if rather tired.

The guard was about to relay the message before opening the window but Lune was already striding to the casement and he wrenched it open. A blast of cold night air swept in.

“Did you say from the Dawn of Time? Lord Digory? Come in at once!” 

And with that, both Great Horned Owls hopped over the casement. Lune and his guards stepped back.They were enormous, as big as eagles. 

“Who who, Lord King, who who indeed! But to you, to you, were we most earnestly set to deliver this mysterious message”, hooted one. The other was grasping a stout cylinder that appeared to be made of several pieces of polished horn set end to end. It held out its leg and blinked its eyes.

Taking it Lune said, “Thank you most noble birds of the night.”

But they did not fly off straight away. Both owls flapped over to the bed rail which creaked under their weight. The guard shut the casement quickly, closing off the chill air that was streaming in. The owls both looked about with huge yellow eyes and ruffled their feathers absorbing some of the warmth in the room after their chilly flight. Lune examined the cylinder to gauge its opening mechanism. It was a simple twist and then pull. Inside was the expected scroll of parchment.

Lune continued. “You may rest assured that you have now completed your mission. As is your due, Dorgin here will make sure you are well fed and rested and you shall be free to go on your return journey. I believe we have caught some goodly rats today. You shall be most welcome to partake tonight and to digest them over the coming day. I am hoping you will both be able to take a return message tomorrow evening after I have had some chance to consider what is in the letter. 

The owls were far too big to be carried out to find food and rest, so Lune gestured to the door and said, “Dorgin will show you the way.” Dorgin departed, followed by the two huge birds who flew down to the floor and then both lumbered out, talons clicking on the smooth wooden floor.

To the other guard he said, “Now, Gastin call Prince Cor to me here at once, and get one of the servants to bring something hot.” 

He shone the lantern at the tall clock on the wall that was ticking quietly. It was nearly half past three in the morning. He yawned again, had another stretch and got back into the warmth of the bed, positioned the lamp carefully and unrolled the parchment. There was a ring dangling from a red ribbon which was embedded in the wax seal. Then he read the long letter which was written in the hasty copperplate, that only a man of letters from Oxford University could manage.

To Your Majesty, King Lune of Archenland, Salutations.

From Lord Digory of the Apple, Peer of the Realm of Narnia, Guardian of the Lantern, Counsellor of the Narnian Privy Chamber, sometime acquaintance of Frank, First King of Narnia and Fledge, First Flying Horse at the Dawn of Time.

Written on the 30th Day of Frostbite, Beruna, Narnia. Year 1118.

I write to you with great urgency. You may be in some doubt about the veracity of my identity and for that I beg your pardon. Lady Polly of the Rings and myself, have been returned to Narnia under mysterious circumstances, we assume by Aslan the Great Lion and have been greeted by the Winterfather who has come early this year. We are from England, the same country as the High King Peter and his siblings. Indeed, it is my wardrobe made of Narnian Applewood though which they came to your world to oust Jadis. I have been harbouring them in my own house since they returned, which in our own time has been less than a week, but here, I believe, more than a year and a half. Sadly, I must confirm that there is no sign of their impending return. Instead, Lady Polly and I believe that we have been sent in their stead, but with a different purpose; not to rule Narnia ourselves but to help sort out this mess regarding succession. 

Your own forbearance by not stepping in to take up the rule of Narnia directly, is appreciated by all we have met. For the Legates of Beruna have done extra-ordinary work to keep Narnia stable and it is to their lasting pride and credit. The Lords Tumnus, Peridan, and Daimyo and a Lady of Terebinthia are of particular note it would seem. But the unrest amongst noble guests and now regions of Narnia, which has begun in the vacuum following the High King’s sudden disappearance and that of his family is of enormous concern and we wish to prevent Narnia’s implosion. Therefore, I write to declare, that in the name of Aslan the Great Lion, the time has now come for neighbouring nations of goodwill to be seen to stand by Narnia in its efforts to identify and install its future royal family and government. And as Archenland holds such strong ties with Narnia, both ancient and recent, your personal and political support for this process would be welcome indeed. 

Should your own personal attendance not be possible, I understand completely. However, I ask that you give your most serious consideration to sending a small delegation of patient, insightful and educated ambassadors from Archenland; for a period of up to six months. As Aslan has chosen to have us arrive in far more youthful guise than when we set out from England, this may be a sign that youth and idealism rather than venerability will be most needed here. I consider it only logical, given the recent youthful rule that Narnia had enjoyed for fifteen years following Jadis’s demise. 

I sincerely and humbly beg that a delegation is able to arrive within the month. Accommodations here in Beruna are rustic but comfortable and spacious enough for our purpose.

I am assured that should a Ruling King or Queen be found, approved, installed and crowned with all due preparation, blessings and ceremony, it is likely that the regional unrest in Narnia should also settle and that Cair Paravel will be reopened. I am glad to find that there is little dispute that Narnia is a land for a son of Adam or a daughter of Eve to be crowned ruler of. Therefore we work towards that goal with all due haste if not due speed. 

In token of our earnest truth, Polly also attaches a ring, one of many gifted to her by the Winterfather. Its full uses are unknown, but she assures me she will know when it has been rightfully bestowed. She suggests that the stone set in it be breathed upon and rubbed once this has been accomplished. I cannot explain further. Only time will tell.

Digory of the Apple.

The seal that held the ribbon was impressed with the Seal of the Legates of Beruna.

…

 

Cor

Lune was sitting digesting this extraordinary missive, when Cor knocked at the door carrying another lantern. He was swathed in thick grey homespun robes and sheepskin slippers. His long straw coloured hair was half covered with a black floppy nightcap tipped over on one side. He looked nervous.

He was accompanied by a sleepy looking man-servant who brought a kettle of hot spiced tea and two mugs before poking the coals in the grate, setting some new wood and getting a merry blaze going.   
Once he was gone, Core approached his father’s bed, “Father?” Cor said, coming over and grasping one of the posts, “What is the matter? Is Calormen about to send warships and cavalry against us or something?”

“Nay my son, Rabadash stands by his peaceful stance. His father the Tisroc has learned his lesson I believe. Instead I have had owls in the night; from Narnia. They have delivered this. I think you will find it interesting.” 

He shifted a bolster, patted the bed next to him and flipped the blankets so Cor could get in next to his father. Cor needed no further invitation on this chilly night and snuggled into the warmth to read the letter, hanging the lantern nearby. He stopped here and there to re-read points, silently mouthing some of the unfamiliar words. His father maintained a patient silence, feeling proud (and relieved) that his bright son had been able to learn to read so well within only three years.

“Is this all true? Could it be? How would we know?”

“I have little doubt it is all true”, intoned Lune. “This is the moment for which I have been waiting. I told you that Aslan would not have installed the young sovereigns and then taken them away without some larger purpose. Here we have it! The Narnian people have had fifteen years of bliss after a hundred years of trauma. They have now had eighteen months of self-rule and done rather well, but the cracks are beginning to show. The place is vulnerable to the interests and vagaries of other nations and Aslan has sent two arbiters with impeccable credentials to broker a solution with which all will be content. I see no reason to doubt this Lord Digory’s claim. There is no hint of subterfuge or game playing. I do not believe anyone would have used both Aslan’s and the Winterfather’s names in vain. Open, frank words. An honest man I deem. And there is this.” He waggled the ribbon and weighted the ring in his hand. 

“Will you go father?” asked Cor, looking full into his father’s face.

“It is tempting my son, the chance of a lifetime. But nay, I think I shall not”

“But why? And if not you, then who? I mean… whom?” he said, correcting himself

“Let me think on it, but if I am to take the hint from this letter I should say I shall send a group of young people including yourself.”

“B-b-but father, is it really best to send me. Will they take me seriously? I would have thought Lord Col or Lord Darrin would be a better choice if not you.”

Lune looked at his son with a mix of loving kindness and concern. 

“I take your point my son, but you are the Crown Prince of Archenland. Neither your precedence nor your youth can be called into question. Take note. The task here is to be a part of seeing how a King or a Queen of Narnia is made. Remember, King Peter was only four and ten when he was crowned and you are near ten and eight. And Lucy was but seven. You will get no greater lesson in Kingcraft than by taking it in the august company of the servants of Aslan in Narnia itself. Mark my words. These two, Lord Digory and Lady Polly may not be over a thousand years old by their own reckoning, but I hazard that even in their own world they are older than I. And in ours they are youthful and vibrant; gifted with powerful talismans by the Winterfather. You will have much to learn from them.”

Cor looked at his father gratefully but he knew that his father could probably see that inside he was quavering nervously.

“And I care not who you tell in the household about the general thrust of the letter nor whom it is from. It will do the young people in this court some good to consider an adventure elsewhere. All I ask is that you do not speak of the ring, nor of whom I have in mind to send just yet. I wish to test some waters before I speak more openly.” 

…

The next morning over breakfast toast and tea, the news in the night from Narnia was the talk of the table. 

Cor looked tired as he shared the news. Corin intially looked wary and a little grumpy that he had not also been asked to join his father in the night to discuss this matter. But he joined the general interested speculation. Aravis looked thoughtful and didn’t say much. Cor could tell that this was the moment she had been champing at the bit about, and he recognised that now the moment had come, she was being admirable in her restraint. 

Tran was disappointed and said so. “A King-making! Some people have all the fun”, he opined. He was due to return to the Lone Islands very soon and could not see himself going to Narnia. 

“And the Lone Islands are a dependency of Narnia so I would have hoped we would have been invited. Still, father may have news of his own when he arrives in a few days.”

Shar’s country was in the opposite direction. But he still had some time before he was due to return. His own awed witnessing of the transformation of Rabadash by Aslan had convinced him that a visit to Narnia, the land of Aslan’s original creation would be of utmost importance and thus he had visited once before when Peter was still High King. He still had vivid memories. But to visit for an extended period and be party to a King-making was a most extraordinary opportunity. 

He said “Oh, my stars. I would so dearly love to be a part of this delegation. But as a visitor to these parts I am afraid it would take too many months before I could seek and gain my own father’s permission. I think I must trust in Good King Lune’s judgement and follow with his decision as to whether I may be allowed to join the delegation. Please put a good word in for me” he pleaded, looking across at Cor with doleful eyes.

Cor may have been tired, but he retained the presence of mind to say, “Look, father has asked me to share this with you this morning because he believes, and the Lord Digory believes, that this is the time for the younger ones to come forward. Not so much to offer themselves for the thrones, but to be witness to the events and to support the Narnian people and Talking Beasts in making their best choices.” 

But he then went on, with a smile, “You know, when I stumbled over the pass overnight into Narnia a few years ago, with Aslan’s help of course, I came across the most ridiculously charming and frustrating set of creatures. A Hedgehog who couldn’t remember anything beyond its need for sleep, a party of Rabbits who couldn’t stop eating the dewy grass, a Squirrel, a Mouse; even a Faun, who wouldn’t have been able to make a joint decision to save their own lives! It means we’ve got to help Narnia find the right people to sit on those thrones, who will respect and protect the silly mugginses and prevent anything bad happening to them!”

He said all this with a tone of authority and they all looked at him with a mix of surprise and respect. The fact that he had merely emulated his father’s words from a few hours ago mattered nothing. They could see that he was trying to wear the mantle of crown prince and that he was doing rather well. And his words made sense. Seeing their faces, he continued, 

“Well, we have a few Talking Beasts and Magical Creatures here in Archenland, certainly, but in Narnia they are absolutely everywhere. Honestly, you can’t pull a bow to shoot a deer for fear it is a Talking one. Apart from the dwarves who took me in, the only sensible one there was a stag. It was he who raced away to raise the alarm about Rabadash. It means Narnia cannot afford to have anyone rash, arrogant, violent or vain on the thrones. And for that matter, neither can Archenland. That’s why we need to have a few of us there”

…

Also sitting quietly listening, munching on toast and apples stewed with honey, was Lord Dar’s eldest daughter Brin. She was only twelve and the youngest at the table. She was in some awe about the entire affair because it all seemed far beyond her years. 

But she was also a highly logical child and tended to maintain a healthy scepticsm of all things so far unseen. She had never yet met Aslan face to face. She found it hard to believe that anybody could come from another world at all despite what she had heard about Lucy and the others. 

“Oh they’ve probably gone back to Telmar or wherever they came from, to escape all the responsibility”, had been her wisdom on the matter when news of the disappearance had reached Armouthe more than a year before.

She could always tell how who had eaten what and how much, at the meal table and she had a better head for money and trade than Corin and Cor combined and if truth be told, Aravis as well. Corin liked to joke behind her back that she would probably become the Chancellor of the Exchequer after her father if they weren’t careful and lock the door of the treasury against them if they turned their back for five minutes. And he was probably right too.

…


End file.
